From heaven with Love
by Anwedragon
Summary: A minor accident in the Bentley brings something to Crowley and Aziraphale that the pair never expected. A gift from God.
1. Chapter 1

It has been a long time since I wrote anything, but this story has been plaguing me. I hope you enjoy it

A/N: I do not own any of these characters.

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"Aziraphale!" Crowley yelled as he shoved his way through the bookshop door. He gripped something rolled in a blanket tight to his chest.

Aziraphale stood up from his desk. "What in Heaven's name?" he gasps. He couldn't remember the last time Crowley had used his name with such urgency.

"I hit her with the Bentley!" Crowley cried as he shifted the bundle in his arms so the top fell open. A woman's head lolled back in unconscious.

Hurrying over, Aziraphale touched the woman's golden hair. "Bring her inside," he said stepping past Crowley to flip the welcome sign to close and lock the door.

"I don't know what happened," Crowley jabbered nervously as he carried the woman through the bookshop. "I didn't see her until it was too late."

"I've told you not to do ninety through Central London," Aziraphale said sharply as he rushed to get past Crowley. He opened the door to his second floor suite. "Take her up to the bedroom."

"I wasn't," Crowley whined, carrying her up the stairs. "I was barely doing sixty, and the road was clear."

"Then how did you hit her?" Aziraphale asked as he pulled the covers back so Crowley could put the woman down.

"I don't know!" Crowley cried as he settled the girl on the bed. "The road was clear, there was a bright flash, and then it wasn't."

Aziraphale pulled the blanket back, exposing the woman. "Dear God," he gasped. He looked up at Crowley with shock on his face. "She's an angel!"


	2. Chapter 2

I'm sorry for the short chapters, I'm still learning to write again and I wanted to get things off this ratchet of a computer in case it give up on life.

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"An angel!" Crowley yelled. He shoved his hands up in his hair and pulled at it. He paced across the room in distress. "How did I hit a bloody angel?" It shouldn't have been possible. The unknown angel should have been able to easily avoid him no matter how recklessly he was driving. Besides, the Bentley didn't like hitting things and tended to avoid them when it could. Horrible thoughts passed through his mind and he spun around to face his angel. "I didn't do it on purpose," he spouted at Aziraphale. "I would never intentionally hit someone."

"I know," Aziraphale snapped at Crowley. He looked up at the panicked demon and took a breath before Crowley jumped to the conclusion he was angry with him. "I know you wouldn't intentionally hit someone, my dear," he said more calmly. "Just settle down and we will set this to right."

Crowley took a deep breath and dropped himself to a chair that appeared next to the bed. As he sprawled in the chair, he watched Aziraphale work. His haggard heart rate slowed as he began to relax. "Will she be all right?"

Aziraphale made a considering noise. "It's lucky she's an angel." He ran his hand over her torso miracling away the broken bones and ruptured spleen. "A normal human would probably be dead by now." He ran his hand up over the top of the woman's head, healing the fractured skull and the conclusion. He looked up at Crowley. "Why didn't you heal her on the spot?"

Crowley paused as the question filtered through several answers. Honestly, he had been pretty freaked out by the fact he had actually hit someone in the first place. But that wasn't something he wanted to admit to his angel. Turning to look at the arm of the chair, he traced the pattern in the wood with his nail and considered what to say. "I'm a demon," he said once he'd settled with his reason. "I'm not supposed to save people."

A small smile curled the corner of Aziraphale's mouth. "So you brought her to me to save?" He glanced up and gave the demon a knowing look.

Embarrassment colored Crowley's cheeks. "Well, I couldn't just let her die," he groused. "Besides," he said, shifting in his chair, "If she truly is an angel, my healing would probably have hurt her more."

Aziraphale shifted from the edge of the bed and sat in another chair that materialized by the bed. "Poppycock," the angel huffed. "You're healing skills are better than mine when you choose to use them."

Crowley made a face and waved Aziraphale's praise off. "Gives me a headache." Which was very true. "Besides, even if we don't have sides anymore, it looks bad if a demon heals an angel."

Taking in a long breath, Aziraphale let out a deep sigh. "You're right, my dear." He turned his attention to the golden haired woman. "I wonder who she is?" He racked his brain, but he couldn't remember seeing her before.

"I don't know," Crowley said as he sat forward to look at her. "But she probably hasn't been to Earth in a long time if she doesn't know enough to stay out of the road."

A soft snort of amusement slipped from Aziraphale as he reached for the bed covers. "Probably not," he said in agreement and pulled the blankets up over the woman. He looked up from the young lady to meet Crowley's eyes. "Could you watch her while I go make some tea?"

"Yeah," Crowley agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry about more short scenes, but the computer is an absolute tool. Better to put them up quick vs losing more stuff that doesn't save properly. Enjoy.

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It was nearly three hours before the unconscious woman's eyes fluttered open. Both Crowley and Aziraphale shifted in their seats. Their movement caught the woman's eye and she looked over at the lighter of the pair.

"Hello," Aziraphale said with a smile. "How do you feel?"

The woman stared at him. A look of wonder filled her eyes. Instead of answering, her head turned to face Crowley.

"Ello," the demon said in greeting.

The woman's mouth opened and she drew in a breath, but still did not speak. Slipping her hand out from under the covers, she reached for Crowley.

He backed away from her hand. "Can I help you?"

The woman's mouth moved, but no sound came out. She flipped her gaze back to Aziraphale. She breathed heavily from her mouth and patted her throat.

Aziraphale stared at the woman before meeting Crowley's gaze. "I don't think she can speak."

Crowley's brow furrowed. "What kind of angel can't speak?"

Concern covered Aziraphale's face. "I don't know." He looked back at the woman. He had never met an angel that couldn't speak. An idea popped into his head. "I suppose I can give her the gift of speech." He looked up at Crowley.

Crowley shrugged. "It's worth a try."

Aziraphale licked his lips as he thought about what needed to be done. He was there in Babble when the infamous tower was built. He could still remember the spell that was used to pass the knowledge of words between people. He glanced at Crowley one more time. "I'm sorry," he said softly before leaning over and pressing his lips to the woman's. He released the power of speech to her. Sitting back quickly, he looked up to the demon. He couldn't see Crowley's eyes for the dark sunglasses, but there was something in the set of the demon's jaw that made Aziraphale want to apologize again. He swallowed hard and turned his attention to the young woman.

She laid there staring up at him.

"Hello," he tried again. "Is that better?"

The woman opened her mouth, but the sound that came out held no meaning. After a moment, she stopped trying. She shot both Crowley and Aziraphale a forlorn look.

"Really, Angel," Crowley said sitting up in his chair. "You give her the power of speech, but don't give her the gift of tongues."

Pink colored Aziraphale cheeks as he shifted back from the bed's edge. "Well, I'm sorry," he said defensively. "How was I supposed to know it wouldn't work?"

"Here," Crowley said, shifting forward. "Let me try." Slipping his hand under the woman's head, Crowley placed a kiss on the woman's mouth. This one was nothing like Aziraphale's chase kiss. This one was deep and passionate with plenty of tongue involved."

Pain raced through Aziraphale's chest as he watched his demon's passionate kiss. "Oh, Crowley!"

The sharp sound of pain in his name pulled Crowley away from the woman's lips. He looked up at Aziraphale. "Angel?" Hurt was plastered all over the angel's face.

Aziraphale shook his head. "I just…" The chair scraped against the floor as he shoved it back and stood up. "I can't…" He turned and fled through the door.

"Aziraphale!" Crowley cried as he stood up. He glanced down to find the woman watching him silently. "I'll be back," he promised before racing after his angel.


	4. Chapter 4

I think you will thoroughly enjoy this chapter. I enjoyed it very much

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Crowley stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked around. He hadn't heard the doorbell chime, so Aziraphale had to be in the shop somewhere. "Angel!" he cried out. "What's the matter?"

The sound of a soft sniff came from the other side of the shop.

Following the noise, Crowley made his way across the shop and found Aziraphale standing between the shelves, staring out the window.

"Angel?" Crowley said softly as he closed the distance between them.

A surprised jerk shook the angel and he raised something to his face. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

Crowley slowly crept up on Aziraphale and peeked around him. "Are you all right?" He took in the angel's reddened face and the lace-edged handkerchief clutched in his hand.

"I'm fine," Aziraphale said with a bit of a snip. He folded the handkerchief and tucked into his pocket. He forced a smile to his face. "Never better."

Reaching up, Crowley pulled off his glasses and looked at his angel. A knowing grin curled the corner of his mouth. "You're jealous."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Aziraphale snapped at he turned to face the demon.

The smile brightened Crowley's eyes. "You are," he purred in pleasure. "You're jealous that I kissed another angel."

"I am not!" Aziraphale huffed and tried to push past Crowley.

Crowley's arm shot out and blocked the angel's path. "You are," he insisted. "You're down right tormented by it."

Aziraphale twisted in place so he was facing Crowley and gave him his best I'm-not-hurt glare. "I kissed her, too."

"Nhg," Crowley exclaimed with a face. "That wasn't even much of a kiss, really. More like a peck."

Aziraphale clenched his hands in anger. "Well, forgive me for not knowing how to kiss. I haven't much experience with it."

A wicked smile brightened Crowley's face. "You know, we could change that."

Shock froze Aziraphale "What?"

Crowley moved closer, crowding Aziraphale back against the shelf. "I could teach you to kiss." He raised his hand to his angel's face.

"H-how?" the angle stammered.

"Like this," Crowley cooed as he leaned in to take Aziraphale's lips.

Aziraphale shifted back until he was pressed solidly against the bookshelf as Crowley got closer. "But, Crowley…"

"Shh," Crowley soothed. "I've been waiting six-thousand years for this." He moved in and captured Aziraphale's lips before the angel could protest again.

The kiss started out soft. Really just a press of the lips until Crowley felt Aziraphale start to relax. As the tension leaked out of the angel, Crowley worked his mouth over Aziraphale's, leading the angel along. He teased and tempted the angel into the knowledge he'd been dying to share since they stood on the walls of Eden. A smile grew on Crowley's lips when Aziraphale's hands caressed his sides. He deepened the kiss, wanting to take the angel to newer heights.

A small cough at the far end of the shelves ripped them out of the moment.

Crowley's head snapped to see who dared interrupt them. He leaned into Aziraphale, keeping him pinned to the shelf.

The woman he'd hit stood there watching them. "I'll be in the kitchen when you're done," she said softly before turning and walking out of sight.

He glared as she left, wishing he'd hit her harder. Once she was gone, Crowley turned to find Aziraphale had buried his face into his shoulder. The red of the angel's blush burned all the way up into his hair. Crowley squeezed him tight. "We're not done with this, Angel," he whispered. "Not by a long shot." There was no way Crowley was going to let things fall back to the slow circling they had been doing. He nuzzled the side of Aziraphale's head, pushing the angel's face up. He pulled Aziraphale closer and held him tenderly. "Now pull yourself together, Angel. We have a guest to deal with." He eased back to look Aziraphale in the eyes. The angel looked as fragile as spun glass. "Everything will be all right."

"Crowley." The word slipped from Aziraphale with such emotion that it twisted Crowley's heart up and made him want to hold the angel tight again.

"Shh," Crowley whispered again. He kissed his angel softly before pulling away. "We'll talk about this later." Stepping back, he pulled out of Aziraphale's embrace. He let his hand slip down his angel's arm and took his hand. Unfolding his glasses, Crowley slipped them back on and led the way through the shelves. It was high time to find out what the angel woman wanted so he could kick her out of Aziraphale's shop and they could get back to more important things.


	5. Chapter 5

Aziraphale looked down at where Crowley held his hand. He could feel the demon's cool fingers against his heated skin, but he still could not believe what had just happened. Had Crowley really desired to kiss him for six-thousand years? Good lord that put it way back in the Garden days. What had he done to spark the demon's desire? He slowed down and pulled against Crowley's hand. "Crowley?" he said softly.

Stopping, the demon turned to look at him. A questioning eyebrow poked out above his glasses.

"Why have you wanted to kiss me for six-thousand years?" Aziraphale asked. He heart jumped in his chest as Crowley's mouth turned up in a crooked smile.

"I've wanted to kiss you from the first time we cocked up God's plans," he admitted. "Imagine my pleasure in hearing that an angel could possibly have done the wrong thing and I may have done the right one. It doubled when I found out you lied to God about the sword."

"Really," Aziraphale gasped. Crowley's words hurt. Had the demon been laughing at him this whole time? He tried to yank his hand out of Crowley's, but the demon held him fast.

"What can I say," Crowley said with a shrug. "I'm a demon. It did, however, take me a few hundred more years to realize that desire was more than mire infatuation with another occult being."

"Ethereal," Aziraphale corrected. "Angels are ethereal, my dear."

The smile on Crowley's face spread. "And that's why I love you, my Angel."

Aziraphale's heart flipped over. "You... love me?" His mind wasn't processing everything that was happening.

Crowley closed the distance between them in a few quick steps. "Of course I do." He punctuated his words with a quick kiss to the angel's lips. "But now isn't the time to talk about that." He turned and started back towards the kitchen.

Following the pull of the demon's hand, Aziraphale fell into motion again. His mind reeled from Crowley's confession. It wasn't something that he ever thought he'd hear. He wanted to stop and tell Crowley how he felt, but Crowley was right. This conversation would take more than just a few moments and they still had to deal with the strange angel. Just before they entered the kitchen area, Aziraphale planted his feet and pulled his hand from Crowley's.

Crowley stopped and turned to face him. Concern shown clearly on his face.

Aziraphale gave his waistcoat a tug, pulling it in to place. He tightened his bow tie and settled his coat on like it should be. He shot Crowley a determined look. "Then let's get this done with, shall we?" He didn't wait for Crowley's answer. Pulling himself up to his full height, he strode past the demon with as much confidence as he could muster.


	6. Chapter 6

Crowley watched at Aziraphale marched past him. The demon's insides were still quaking from his confession. What if his angel couldn't accept him? Or worse, thought he was teasing. He was a demon after all. They were known for lying about everything. He hadn't even given his angel time to respond. Honestly, he was afraid of what that response would be. He stretched his fingers to relieve some of his tension and slipped his hands into his pockets before following Aziraphale into the kitchenette.

Aziraphale stopped a few steps inside the small room. "Hello," he said warmly.

Crowley moved so he had a clear view of their visitor.

The woman was exactly what everyone expected an angel to look like, if angels jumped off the pages of religious text. In fact, she looked nothing like any angel Crowley knew. Her golden hair fell in perfect tight ringlets much like his hair had once done. Her white robes could have been pulled directly off the angels often seen in nativity sets. In fact, from the top of her perfect head to the soles of her bare feet, she could have been the angel from one of those sets. The only thing she was missing was the wings and the bright burst of light haloing her head. One thing spoiled the look. An old kettle held in her perfect hand.

Crowley leaned his shoulder against the doorway and watched her.

She turned and looked at Aziraphale. "Hello," she said before turning back to look at the small stove.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Aziraphale asked.

"I was going to put a kettle on," she admitted, turning back to Aziraphale. "But, I'm not sure what to put it on."

"A kettle?" Aziraphale asked, confusion thick in his voice.

The woman held out the old kettle. "Isn't that what you do in this situation?" she asked. "Put a kettle on and make tea?" She turned her attention to Crowley. "Or would you prefer wine?"

Irritated with the woman, Crowley pushed himself up from the wall. "Who are you?" he snapped.

"Tea will be fine," Aziraphale said quickly. He shot a pointed look back at Crowley. "Don't be rude, my dear." He turned his attention back to the woman. "Let me get that for you." He took the kettle and set about getting tea ready.

Crowley crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall again. "I still want to know who you are."

"I'm sure we'll have time for that as soon as the tea is done," Aziraphale gave Crowley another exasperated look as he finished getting the kettle on to boil. Then he turned his attention back to the woman, he smiled sweetly. "Why don't you go sit down." He touched the lady's arm and pointed her out to where the loveseat and armchair were.

"Thank you," she smiled and turned to Crowley. "Would you care to join me?"

"I'd be happy to," Crowley said with a wide grin. He looked at Aziraphale. A warning flashed in the angel's eyes. Crowley shrugged and turned to follow the woman out. "So," he said as soon as they reached the sitting area in the back of the bookshop. "Who are you?"

She turned azure eyes to him. "I don't understand your question," she said. "I am me." Given the selection of seating, she perched on the edge of the armchair Aziraphale usually took.

Not sure how to process that answer, Crowley took the end of the couch furthest away from the woman.

"I believe he wants to know your name," Aziraphale said as he followed in behind them with a tray filled with tea and biscuits. "In fact, I think that's an excellent place to start."

Crowley did his best to be calm as Aziraphale set the try on the table and took the other seat on the couch.

"Oh," the woman said as she sat primly on the edge of the chair. "Um…" Her eyes roamed the tray of tea as she thought. She looked back up to the pair. "I don't have one."

More irritation crawled up Crowley's spine. "What do you mean you don't have one?" he gripped. "Every angel has a name."

Aziraphale placed a soothing hand on Crowley's knee. The unfamiliar contact nearly made him jump out of his skin. He looked down at the hand for a long moment trying to decide what it meant.

"Every angel has a name," Aziraphale echoed. "It defines who we are."

A smirk turned Crowley's mouth. He loved to hear his angel support him. It was cut short by the woman's answer.

"This is true, but I'm not an angel."

Both Aziraphale and Crowley stared at the woman in shock.

"But you appeared out of nowhere!" Crowley exclaimed. "In a flash of bright, white light."

"And you're Grace, I can feel it," Aziraphale added.

The woman smiled. "I never said I didn't come from Heaven, I said I wasn't an angel."

Aziraphale turned a confused look to Crowley. There were several things in Heaven that weren't angels, but he had never heard of them leaving the Heavens. They weren't the type of things that went on holiday. And they certainly didn't appear out of nowhere in the middle of a busy road. He drew his hand back from Crowley's leg and reached for the pot of tea, pouring some into each cup. Needing something to steady his nerves, he miracled a nice helping of Irish cream into his cup. He took a sip and let the liquor warm his insides.

"So," he said as he set the cup back to the tray. "If you're not an angel, than what are you?"

"I am one of the remaining seven," she explained. "The holiest of the Holyes that sit on the steps before the throne and do Her bidding."

Aziraphale froze. "Seraphim," he whispered. He could see Crowley reach for his cup, pick it up, and drain it. A sharp smell told him the demon had changed the tea into something much stronger. "Oh good Heavens." He wiggled in his seat trying to decide what to do.

"You can't be Seraphim," Crowley protested as he set the cup back down. "She only sends them when there's work to be done that She can't trust the angels with."

Amusement crossed the woman's face. "There is work to be done that She doesn't trust angels to do."

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley again. He couldn't see the demon's eyes, but he was familiar enough with his features to see real fear on his face. His own heart was beating rapidly in his chest. He licked his dry lips and debated following Crowley's example and miracling gin into his tea. But it was probably not a good thing for him to do in front of God's representative. "What work does She have that can't be done by angels?"

Mischief brightened the woman's eyes. "You."


	7. Chapter 7

Crowley's jaw clenched as anger swept through him. He didn't care who this not-angel was, she wasn't going to do anything to his angel.

"Me?" Aziraphale squeaked in surprise.

Crowley reached out and grabbed the edge of Aziraphale's coat since the angel's hands were busy with his tea cup.

"Both of you, actually." The Seraph turned her attention to Crowley. "Both sides aren't very happy right now, and I fear they may seek to deliver Divine retribution for your crimes."

A shiver of rage raced up Crowley's back. "And you're here to deliver it?" he hissed. He clutched the bit of coat he held, ready to miracle them both away should the woman try anything.

"No," the Seraph said, shaking her head. "The angels and demons may want to find a way to continue their little war without the help of the Antichrist, but a war to end everything was never part of the Divine plan."

"Then why was it prophesied?" Aziraphale asked. He set his cup down and slid back into the sofa next to Crowley. He slipped his hand down and pulled the demon's hand away from his coat.

Crowley let him, but slipped his finger between Aziraphale's.

The Seraph picked up her cup and looked at the tea inside. "You mean the prophecies that were written?" she asked before taking a sip of tea. Her nose wrinkled a little and she looked down at the drink before looking up at the pair on the couch. "The one that reads 'the world will last for six thousand years and end in fire and flame'? That one?" She took another sip of tea.

"Yes," Aziraphale said. "That one."

"That one came true," she said. "A world was built that lasted for six thousand years before crashing down in fire and flames."

Something nagged at Crowley. He rolled the woman's words around in his head and enlightenment dawned on his. "The bookshop," he said shifting forwards in his seat. "The prophecies of the Great Plan were about the burning of the bookshop."

A wide smile split the Seraph's face. "And the Bentley."

Aziraphale looked at Crowley with disbelief before turning back to the Seraph. "That can't be," he exclaimed. "Neither the bookshop nor the Bentley are six thousand years old."

"No," the woman agreed. "The building and books inside aren't that old, nor is the car. It's the world held within them that was."

Crowley exchanged a confused look with Aziraphale before they both turned their attention back to the Seraph.

"The two of you have been circling around each other since the Garden of Eden. Growing ever closer with each turn," she explained. "The only thing holding you apart at the end was your loyalty to your respective sides. The threat of Divine or Demonic punishment. The only real thing to keep you from stepping out of your Agreement and into something more." Carefully, she set her cup on the table and folded her hands in lap. "But Crowley realized something when he came looking for his best friend and found the bookshop aflame."

Aziraphale looked over at Crowley. His eyes, bright with curiosity and his hand tightened around the demons.

Crowley worked his memory. He had been in such a fit of despair that he hadn't really been paying attention to anything other than losing Aziraphale. He tipped his head forwards, trying to remember. As he did so, his glasses slipped a little, bringing back the memory of shattered glasses being discarded in the street. He drew in a gasp of air as he remembered. He raised his head and stared at the Seraph. "No one's keeping score anymore."

"Exactly," she exclaimed in delight. "Heaven and Hell have been too busy trying to sort things out to keep track of miracles. Your failed execution was the last time either side had time to focus on you."

"We're in the clear?" Aziraphale asked in a hopeful voice.

"No," the Seraph sighed with a shake of her hear. "Heaven and Hell are coming to terms. It will be a while still before things are back in order, but once they are, both sides will make disposing of you their top priority."

Another worried glance passed between the two men. "What can we do?" Aziraphale asked, turning his attention back to the Seraph.

"Nothing," the Seraph said. Her eyes flashed back and forth between the angel and demon. "On your own, you do not have a prayer against what is to come. And swapping bodies will not stop the hordes of both demons and angels willing tear you limb from limb."

Fear made Crowley shiver. He could feel a matching shiver in Aziraphale. Moving sideways he leaned into his angel's side, trying to give him comfort when he didn't have any himself.

Releasing the demon's hand, Aziraphale raised his arm and wrapped it around the demon's shoulders. "So what do we do?" he asked.

"Let me help you," the Seraph answered. "The Almighty has been watching over you for some time now. She is pleased with how you've handled yourselves in the face of impossible odds. Even with your incompetence in your jobs."

"I don't think we were that incompetent," Aziraphale huffed.

"Yes we were," Crowley grumbled.

"Either way," the Seraph said, standing up from her chair. "I have gifts for you. Come and receive them, if you will."


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you for your kind words. I'm sorry this has taken me more time to upload the latest chapter. I've been working over time and haven't had time to write. Hopefully that will change and I can get this done quickly. Thank you for sticking with me.

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Aziraphale squeezed Crowley tight to his side as the Seraph stood and walked towards the center of the shop. He turned to look at Crowley. "Gifts from God," he said a little hesitant.

"I'm not sure I want gifts from Her," Crowley admitted.

Surprise raced through Aziraphale. "We can't refuse them," he said, releasing the demon and shifted in his seat so they were no longer pressed together.

"We bloody well can," Crowley hissed. "Gifts from God do not come without cost." He stood up and watched the Seraph move through the shop.

"That's not true," Aziraphale protested. "God is very giving."

Crowley turned to him and hissed again. "Name, for me, one gift She's given that didn't have a horrible price?"

Aziraphale froze. His mind worked, but couldn't think of even one miracle She had brought that hadn't come with a terrible consequences. He met Crowley's eyes. "Let's just see what She has to offer," he said. "God's gifts are not to be rejected lightly. Besides, I don't want to face down hordes of angels and demons on our own."

Crowley held his stance for a moment before standing up straight. "All right," he agreed. "But I'm not taking anything from Her without knowing exactly what the cost will be. Full disclosure." He tucked his hands into his pants pockets and sauntered after the Seraph.

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale stood up and followed them.

The Seraph stopped on top of the large rug in the middle of the shop. She turned around to face them. A shiver ran down her frame and six golden wings unfurled behind her. She shook them out until they filled a good deal of the open space. "Are you ready to receive your gifts?"

"No," Crowley snipped.

Surprise covered the Seraph's face.

Aziraphale hurried his steps up to stand next to the demon. He grabbed the sleeve of Crowley's coat in warning. "We will receive Her gifts," he said, giving the demon a pointed glare. "But we have some questions first."

The Seraph raised an eyebrow in curiosity. She swayed back and forth as if the weight of her wings were too much for her slight frame. "You would question God's gifts?"

Crowley shrugged off Aziraphale's grip and stepped forward. "I would," he admitted.

Aziraphale bit his lip, but didn't stop the demon. Asking questions about Her actions was one of the many reasons an angel could Fall. Crowley couldn't Fall again, but Aziraphale could. It was best to let the demon handle this part.

The Seraph considered him for a long moment as she swayed. "Ask your questions, Fallen One, and I will do my best to answer them."

Irritation ran up Aziraphale's spine. He did not like the way the woman spoke to his demon. He glanced over at Crowley to see how he took the name. There was tension in the demon's spine, but no real anger.

"What's the price?" Crowley asked.

It was another full minute of swaying before the Seraph answered. "What do you mean, price?"

"She doesn't give anything away for free," Crowley sneered.

Anger flashed across the Seraph's face.

Aziraphale reached out and grabbed Crowley's sleeve again in warning. He stepped up next to the demon. "Forgive us," he said, humbly. "What my friend means is, what are we expected to do to be worthy of a gift from Her?"

The anger in the Seraph cooled as she swayed back and forth. "The cost to you?" she mused.

"Yes," Crowley snipped. "What will this gift cost us?"

The Seraph fluttered her winds. "A few feathers."

Crowley and Aziraphale gave each other confused looked before turning their attention back to the woman taking up most of the atrium.

"A few feathers?" Aziraphale asked.

The Seraph nodded. "The cost to you personally will be a few feathers each. The total price of this gift has been collected over the last six thousand years."

"Over six thousand years!" Aziraphale exclaimed.

"What was the cost?" Crowley asked.

Cocking her head, a sad smile slipped across her face. She turned her attention to Aziraphale. "A life of neglect and scorn."

Aziraphale drew in a sharp breath as memories of his life flashed through his head. Six millennia of being an angel that wasn't quite cast out of Heaven. He always told himself that he was doing God's work on Earth. He never complained when he went to the Head Office to give his reports and was immediately shunt back to Earth without being given a chance to enjoy the joys Heaven offered. He tried not to miss the songs of Heaven, or the feel of Heaven's glory rushing through his wings. He tried not to think about the great library that he rarely got to visit. That last one hurt more than the numerous times Gabriel had reprimanded him for his faults.

Closing his eyes, Aziraphale let the air out of his lungs and drew in a few shuddered breaths, trying to ease the pain around his heart. He knew he had been neglected and abused, but he had convinced himself that was his part in God's will and had endured it in Her name. A warm touch on his shoulder pulled him away from the memories. He turned to find Crowley had reached for him. Aziraphale's pain echoed across Crowley's face. Reaching up, he patted his friend's hand and gave the demon a sad smile.

Crowley flipped his hand over and took Aziraphale's. He moved so they stood shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, and faced the Seraph together. "What gift would She offer?'

An amused smile bent the Seraph's face. "A job."


	9. Chapter 9

Both Aziraphale and Crowley stared in surprise.

The Seraph fluttered her wings and stood up tall. She straightened her shoulders and gave the pair a serious look. "Aziraphale." She pinned the angel with a knowing eyes. "Principality, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Giver of the Flaming Sword, Field Agent to Heaven. You hold love in your heart for three things above all else: food, books, and a demon not quite deserving of Hell. What would you do to keep them safe?"

Aziraphale gave Crowley a nervous look. He licked his lips and turned his attention back to the Seraph. "Anything," he admitted.

The Seraph nodded. She shifted her attention. "Crowley, Formerly Crawly, Formerly Something Lost but Not Forgotten, Fallen Angel, Aforementioned Demon, Serpent of Eden, Purveyor of Sin. You covet much, but three things rank highest in your heart: your plants, your Bentley, and an angel not quite worthy of Heaven."

"Aziraphale is worthy of Heaven," Crowley snarled, squeezing his angel's hand.

Amusement brightened the Seraph's face. "Not in the eyes of Heaven's current ruling parties."

"Well, they can just fuck off," Crowley growled.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale reprimanded, jerking their joined hands towards him. He patted it against his hip in warning.

The Seraph laughed. She turned smiling eyes on the demon. "What would you do to keep those safe?''

"I sure as Hell wouldn't let Gabriel restart Armageddon," Crowley sneered.

A full smile brightened the Seraph's face. "You would stand against Heaven?"

"And Hell," Crowley added.

The joy fell away from the woman's face. "But you don't stand a chance against Heaven. One drop of Holy Water would destroy you," she reasoned. "Would you face that for your angel?"

Crowley looked over at Aziraphale. Deep emotion moved within him. His first instinct was to save himself, but he couldn't bear the thought of Heaven getting their hands on Aziraphale. He focused his attention back to the Seraph. "Yes."

"No," Aziraphale snapped. "I will not let you face Holy Water for me."

"If it keeps you safe," Crowley snapped back, "than yes I will."

"How about you?" the Seraph asked, interrupting the fight rising between the angel and demon. "Would you face Hell Fire for your demon?"

"No," Crowley growled. "He would not."

"Crowley," Aziraphale reprimanded. "How can I ask you to face Holy Water for me, if I'm not willing to face Hell Fire for you?"

"No," Crowley said firmly to the Seraph again. He turned his attention to Aziraphale. "No," he said again. "I can't lose you again, Angel."

"You won't," Aziraphale said. He squeezed Crowley's hand and turned his attention back to the Seraph. "I would," he said, answering the Seraph's question.

"Very well," she said, spreading her wings. "Each of you, pick a feather."

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged another confused looked. They released each other's hand and stepped to either side of Seraph.

Aziraphale reached for the smaller covet feathers while Crowley went for a larger secondary feather.

"Make sure you take a worthy one," the Seraph said. "You are picking for each other."

The demon and angel glanced at each other over the woman's head. They both changed their choice to large primaries in excellent condition.

"Just a little pinch," Aziraphale said as he quickly pulled the feather out. He put his finger over the socket to keep it from bleeding.

"Don't worry about the wound," the Seraph said, pulling her wing back from Aziraphale's hand.

Shrugging, Crowley pulled out his chosen feather without a word. He stepped back to where they had been standing before.

Unsure what to do, Aziraphale stepped back to stand next to Crowley again. "Now what?" he asked, holding the feather gently.

"Give me your wings," The Seraph said.

A wave of power washed over the angel and demon, pushing their wings into reality.

"Wait," Crowley said. "What do you need our wings for?"

The Seraph folded her wings down her back, but left them out. "I told you I needed a few of your feathers." She stepped closer to Crowley. "If you value your angel's life, you will let me work before the power in the feathers dissipates."

Crowley looked down at the feather in his hand and then at Aziraphale. He turned around and presented his wings.

"Come," the Seraph said, drawing Aziraphale to stand with her behind Crowley. "Spread your wings wide," she said to the demon.

Crowley spread his wings as far as he could.

The Seraph ran her hands over the coal black feathers. She picked a primary that had seen better days. She plucked it without warning.

"Hey!" Crowley hollered.

"Hush," she reprimanded before turning her attention to Aziraphale. "The feather."

Aziraphale carefully placed his chosen feather in her hand.

Fitting the new shaft into Crowley's empty socket, she smoothed the golden feather into the dark plumage. Once it was in place, she turned to Aziraphale. "Now pick one for your wing."

Unsure what the Seraph was planning, he pointed to a strong primary. It wasn't the best in the wing, but it wasn't the worst.

Crowley looked back at the feather the Seraph touched. "Pick a better one than that," he snarled. He flared his wings out away from the Seraph's hand. Grabbing the best feather in his wind, he yanked it out without a fuss.

The Seraph shrugged and turned her attention to Aziraphale. "Your turn."

Aziraphale turned around and opened his wings.

After pick the rattiest feather, the Seraph held her hand out to Crowley for a feather.

He placed the other golden feather into her hand.

The Seraph fit it into the empty socket. She glanced over at Crowley. "Pick a feather for your wing."

Crowley touched a rumpled feather.

"Not that one." Aziraphale said as he looked back at his wing. He moved his wing away from the Seraph's hand. "Take this one." He reached over and pulled a strong feather from his other wing. Blood squirt across the white plumage.

"Angel," Crowley gasped. He reached to stanch the blood but the Seraph stopped him.

She took the dark feather from Crowley's hand and fitted it into the bleeding wound. After a quick touch, the dark feather settled into its new home. The blood stopped flowing. She stepped back to look at her work. "Once more," she said turning back to Crowley.

Crowley turned around and spread his wings, exposing the opening in his primaries.

Aziraphale gave up his white feather and watched as she slipped it into the empty space in Crowley's wing.

The woman stood back and looked over her work.

Still confused by the Seraph's actions, Crowley and Aziraphale moved back to stand together. Seeking the comfort of his touch, Aziraphale reached for Crowley's hand. The demon wove their fingers together as they waited.

Please with her work, the Seraph smiled. She raised her arms and flared her wings wide. The words she spoke held no meaning to human ears, but they rang through the air, deafening all that would hear it. A bright light shone from the surface of her golden wings. It flared around Crowley and Aziraphale. The power it released burned in the new feathers set into new wings.

Demonic energy poured out of Crowley's feather and raced through Aziraphale's veins like Hell Fire. A scream erupted from his lips and he dropped to the ground.

At the same time, Celestial Fire from Aziraphale's plumage raced through Crowley, reducing him to a pile next to his angel. More accustomed to pain, only a whimper escaped his lips, but he clutched to his angel's hand as if it was the only thing keeping him from burning up completely.

The pain only lasted an instance before the power held within the golden feather rushed into them. It was exquisite in comparison to the burn, but it was too overwhelming for either being to breathe a sigh of relief. They lay crumpled on the floor as the power of God tore them apart and rebuild them anew.


	10. Chapter 10

The feel of the carpet beneath his cheek was the first thing Crowley registered. Memory of fire burning through his veins made his entire corporation tingle, but it wasn't a bad tingle. It was very much like the heavy feeling one gets between falling asleep and being awake. Opening his mouth, he drew in a deep breath. He didn't need to breathe, but the sweet taste of the air helped to pull his mind together. It tasted of power, books, feathers, and his angel. Thoughts of Aziraphale trickled into his mind. The echoing sound of his scream rang through Crowley's head, forcing the demon to open his eyes.

Black feathers filled his field of vision. His heart jumped. They were his black feathers, but they weren't. Some was different. Not exactly wrong, just not normal. Shifting his wing brought him a clear view of the angel crumpled at his side. He could still feel Aziraphale's fingers gripped in his. "Angel," he croaked.

Aziraphale didn't move.

Rubbing his tongue along the roof of his mouth, Crowley tried to get the weird taste out of his mouth. It wasn't really bad, but it reminded him of the color blue. He pushed himself into a less sprawled position. Moving didn't really hurt, but it felt weird. Like he wasn't in his own corporation anymore. It took him a moment, but he realized he recognized this feeling, only last time, it wasn't nearly this pleasant.

With memories of his Fall rushing through his head, he stopped to take stock of his faculties. He still felt like himself. His wiles and wit were sluggish, but he could tell they were still there. There was still a hole in him, deep inside, where his Grace had been pulled from him. His tongue slipped out and he tasted the air. Still a demon. Everything was the same, yet it wasn't. A groan next to him pulled his mind back to the present.

"Easy, Angel," he said, shifting to Aziraphale's side. He rolled his friend over and gathered him up in his arms so the angel wouldn't damage his wings.

"Ugh," Aziraphale groaned, smacking his lips. His tongue worked in and out of his mouth scraping against his teeth. "Why do I taste blue?"

"You're all right," Crowley cooed as he cradled his angel against him. Crowley's eyes ran over Aziraphale's form. It looked just like the plump angel he had always been, but it wasn't. There was something mildly different about him. His form held the same shape, but his presence had changed. Crowley looked at the angel's wings. The black and gold feathers were no longer there. The plumage looked white if he stared at it directly, but the feathers in the edge of his vision shimmered with hints of silver and gold.

"I don't feel right," Aziraphale gasped. Reaching up, he curled his hand into the front of Crowley's coat.

"I've got you," Crowley said, pulling the angel closer to him.

"What happened?" Aziraphale asked as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

Crowley held on, not letting the angel get far. "I think she remade us."

Aziraphale pulled away and met Crowley's eyes. "Remade us?"

"Angel," Crowley started. He paused trying to put his thoughts and memories into words that wouldn't scare his friend, but there was no good way to say what needed to be said. Without any other course, he jumped straight into it. "This feels like what happened after my Fall. But without the lake of boiling sulfur."

Fear and horror filled Aziraphale's eyes. "I Fell?"

"No, no, Angel," Crowley soothed. He reached up and placed his hand along the side of Aziraphale's face so the angel would look at him. "You didn't Fall. Your wings are still white. You're safe." He didn't dare mention the changes in his feathers quite yet. He gave Aziraphale a moment to comprehend his words.

The angel's eyes moved to take in Crowley's dark plumage. He finally gave the demon a little nod.

"But this feels like the time after my Fall. After She broke me apart and made me into something new."

"I feel different," Aziraphale sighed.

"You are different." The voice that spoke was laced with both pain and satisfaction.

Aziraphale and Crowley both turned their attention to the Seraph. The woman was crumpled in a pile on the floor. Pain filled her eyes as she looked up at them. Her six golden wings were reduced to charred and bloody cinders on her back. A few golden feathers lay strewn about her, but most were burnt by the power she has wielded.

"Seraph," Aziraphale gasped. He pulled out of Crowley's grasp and crawled the short distance to the downed woman. Sitting on the floor, he pulled her up to lean against him.

She hissed in pain, but relaxed against his chest.

"Let me help you," Aziraphale reached to her burnt wings to ease the pain with a miracle.

"No don't," she said, reaching up and taking his hand before he could touch the damage skin.

Crowley stood and came to stand over them.

The Seraph looked up and smiled at him. "You're beautiful." Her eyes moved to Aziraphale. "You both are." Pain flashed across her face making her eyes close. As the wave passed, she opened them again to look up at the pair. "She will be most pleased with this."

"What happened?" Crowley asked. His heart ached to see the woman in such pain. "What are we?" He knew they were different, but he needed to know how.

Another smile spread across the woman's face. "You are the same, but different," she said. "An angel and a demon. Blessed with the power to complete the task God has sent you."

"What task is that?" Aziraphale asked.

"To stop the conflict between Heaven and Hell from spilling to Earth," she explained.

Aziraphale's grip tightened. He glanced up at Crowley before turning his attention back to the Seraph. "And how do we do that?"

She reached up and touched his check. "With love." She looked up at Crowley. "And each other." Her hand dropped away and she shook as shock took over.

"Let me heal you," Aziraphale begged.

The Seraph shook her head. "That's not possible." Another shiver wracked her frame. "There's a reason the Seraphim don't take names."

"Why?" Aziraphale asked.

"Names define things," she explained. "Gives an object purpose. We of the Seraphim are vessels for Her power. No more."

"No," Crowley gasped from above them.

Aziraphale looked up in concern.

"That's not fair to you," Crowley growled. How could God do this? How could She be so cruel.

"It's my purpose."

"What?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley glared at the Seraph before turning pain-filled eyes to his angel. "Sometimes you have to break a vessel to release what's held inside."

"No," Aziraphale gasped and squeezed the woman tighter. He prayed for a miracle, but nothing happened. He held her against him as if he could will her well again.

"Aziraphale," she said softly.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and met her gaze.

"Stop."

Pain filled the angel's heart. "I can't," he said, sorrow filling his voice.

She smiled and touched his cheek again. "Then honor me by fulfilling your role to the best of your abilities. Keep the Earth safe with the power you've been granted."

Tears burned in Aziraphale's eyes, he nodded his head and loosened his grip. "All right."

The Seraph turned her gaze up to Crowley. "Demon." She raised her hand towards him.

Crowley stepped closer and took it.

"I have one more gift for you," she said. "Do with it as you will." Light shimmered in her hand and passed into Crowley's.

The demon gasped and dropped her grip.

The Seraph's hand fell to her body as the life flowed out of her.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I'm sorry to have left you all hanging after that last chapter. I felt bad, but it's been a rough week. I hope you all enjoy this continuation.

* * *

Tears flowed down Aziraphale's face as he held the Seraph's lifeless body. In six millennia, he has seen much death. No matter how much it had pained him to let Death come, he'd been on hand to comfort those passing into their afterlife many times. But this time was different. There was no soft whisper of Death's cloak as he took the soul away. There wasn't even the release of energy that accompanied a discorportation of another angel. This time, the energy inside the Seraph just fizzled out. There would be no Heaven or Hell for her. The body clutched in his arms was no more than a shell; empty and hollow.

Aziraphale sobbed. He wanted to rage at the Almighty. He wanted to scream his anguish at the injustice, but there was nothing he could do. A warm hand touched his shoulder.

"Shh," Crowley said as he knelt next to Aziraphale.

"Oh Crowley," Aziraphale wailed as he turned and buried his face into the crook of the demon's neck. He held the Seraph tight as he cried. Warm arms pulled him into a comforting hold.

"I've got you," the demon soothed as he carded his finger through the angel's soft curls. There was nothing Crowley could say to make this situation better. They both knew it.

A warm rush of energy rolled through the room.

Drawing in a hiccuping sniff, Aziraphale pulled his face away from Crowley's comforting shoulder and looked up at the angel that had materialized in his bookshop. He was tall with six wings marking him as another Seraph. But these were white, lacking the Divine radiance the woman's golden wings had held. He dressed in the manner of angels of old.

"Why do you cry, Principality?" the new Seraph asked.

Aziraphale took another gulp of air, clearing his throat before he could speak. "It's not fair." Even to his ears, the protest was weak and whiny.

The male came and knelt down in front of the trio on the floor. "It's the way of things." He reached out and touched one of the woman's ruined wings. "She knew the cost when she volunteered for this job."

Shock raced up Aziraphale's spine. "She volunteered?" He stared into the new Seraph's eyes. They were the same azure blue as the woman's, but they weren't as deep as hers.

The male Seraph nodded. "We all know the cost of carrying Divine power," he explained. "And we are glad to do it when the cause is worthy."

"You're not forced?" Crowley asked.

The male smiled and shook his head. "No," he reassured them. "We may be vessels designed to carry out God's will, but She would never force us to do a job we disagree with. There is free will, even among the Seraphim." He held his hands out towards the lifeless woman.

Reluctantly, Aziraphale shifted her body into the new Seraph's arms.

He held her lovingly, brushing her hair back from her face. "She did a most excellent job." He looked up to the angel and demon. His eyes took in the protective way the demon held the angel to his side. "It may please you to know that six of the remaining seven Seraphim volunteered for this assignment."

Aziraphale's mouth fell open. "Why?" he asked before he could sensor himself.

A wide smile covered the Seraph's face as he stood up. He slung the woman in his arms gently, cradling her to his chest. "We may not have names, but we do have professional pride," he explained. "Wouldn't you want to be the one to promote a simple angel and demon to Guardians of the Earth?" Before either Crowley or Aziraphale could respond, the Seraph spread his wings and disappeared in a gust of air that sent papers skittering around the shop.

Shocked, Aziraphale turned and stared, wide eyed, at Crowley.

A wide grin split Crowley's face. "Congratulations, you're a Guardian Angel again."

Many things swirled inside Aziraphale. Joy, disbelief, surprise, horror, and finally realization. His mouth worked for a moment before he could respond. "So are you."

The amusement on Crowley's face dissolved into stunned horror.

* * *

A/N: There will be another chapter after this.. one more will tie it up. If you want more after that, let me know. There are so many places this could go


	12. Chapter 12

Crowley sprawled on the worn couch in the back of the bookshop and stared at the fingers on his left hand. It had been three days since the Seraph's visit. Three days since he and Aziraphale had been named Guardians of the Earth. That time has been spent in dealing with changes. Things they didn't know how to understand. They had both taken the time to test their identities.

Aziraphale was still an angel. He could still pull on Heaven's power to perform miracles. He still had the unwavering desire to do good in the world. Doing evil still felt wrong. It had taken Crowley a fair amount of prodding to get his angel to swear, but the not-quite-foul word still made the flustered angel blush bright red. Crowley had loved every minute of it.

On the other hand, Crowley was still a demon. Hell's power still flowed through him when he desired something. He still enjoyed doing evil, or his version of evil, which was more mischief than true evil. Doing good still left a foul taste in his mouth. They were still themselves, but there were subtle differences. Things they noticed but hadn't been willing to test yet.

One of the most obvious changes were their wings. Fluffy white wings still graced Aziraphale's back, but the edges swirled with silver and gold giving him a mythical look. Crowley's own wings were still black as coal, but they shimmered as if starlight was caught within the barbs.

Their corporations were mostly the same, but there were differences. They both felt fresher. It was something akin to taking a well loved rug out and beating the dirt from it. It was still the same rug, but it did wonders to spruce up the room.

As they settled into their new rolls, Crowley started worrying about the things that hadn't been addressed. While the two of them now shares an expanded world of physical touch, Aziraphale hadn't responded to Crowley's decoration of love.

Crowley didn't push him. His angel was dealing with enough stress right now. He didn't want to say something and risk driving a wedge between them. The angel may ask to go back to the polite distance they had known for six millenia. Crowley could wait for the angel to accept him, but going back to the circling would kill him.

The other elephant in the room was the Seraph's gift to Crowley. Aziraphale had mentioned it once on the first day, but Crowley had been unwilling to talk about it. The angel hadn't brought it up since.

Crowley took a sip of his wine and continued to study the tips of his fingers. He could feel the strange power the Seraph had given him. He still had a hole where his Grace had been pulled out, but this power had settled into that space, making him feel more whole.

He rubbed his thumb across the pads of his fingers. Hell Fire crackled between the tips. Usually, he refrained from any kind of fire in Aziraphale's bookshop, but there was something compelling him to test out his powers. A bit of flame danced to life in his hand. He played with it, feeling the power that kept it burning. After a moment of indecision, Crowley reached for that ball of power.

Memories long buried filled his mind. He had helped to lay the stars, but it wasn't his essence that was used. He could remember the feel of the Almighty's power coursing through him as he wove it into beauty. The memory was too overwhelming to deal with. Closing his eyes, he clenched his hand closed, putting out the spark of Hell Fire. He knew exactly what the Seraph had given him. The only question was, how should he use it?

* * *

A/n: I know. I said one more chapter, but this story took on a life of it's own and I've got too many loose ends to leave it here, so, more chapters. Do I apologize for that? Anyway. I've been switching POV between the boys and this just couldn't go with the next sections so here you go.


	13. Chapter 13

a/n: Two chapters were posted at the same time.. make sure you don't miss the previous one.

* * *

"Come here, Angel."

The call from the back room pulled Aziraphale out of his book. He looked at the mess of papers spread across his desk. For the last few days, he had been doing research on God's miracles on Earth, the Seraphim, and anything he could find on the Fall of disgraced angels. Trying to understand things. He hadn't found the answers to any of his questions in any of his books. He'd considered asking Crowley what it was like to be remade since he had more experience with such things, but Falling was a touchy subject and they had both agreed to leave it alone a long time ago.

Letting out a sigh, Aziraphale marked his place with a soft feather left over from his last molting and went to see what the demon wanted. He stopped between the shelves that separated their normal sitting area from the rest of the shop. "What's this?"

Crowley had shifted all of the furniture around and was sitting cross-legged on the floor. There was a tray of things next to him. "Come. Sit," he said patting the floor in front of him.

Not sure what was going on, Aziraphale came and knelt in front of his demon with his legs tucked under him.

"Not like that," Crowley said patting his knee. "Like this."

Still uncertain, Aziraphale shifted around until his legs were crossed the same as Crowley's. If felt like a very undignified way to sit and he said as much.

"It's more comfortable," Crowley explained. "And we may be sitting here for a while."

Confusion furrowed Aziraphale's brow. "What is going on?"

"Do you love me?" Crowley asked instead of explaining.

Aziraphale's mouth fell open in surprise. He had not given Crowley a proper answer yet, but hadn't expected the demon to blind-side him with the question. "Of course I do," he stammered.

Crowley shook his head and pulled off his sunglasses. "No," he laid his glasses down next to the tray and stared at Aziraphale. "Not _that _way. I know you love me _that way_. You love _everything_ that way. What I need to know is, was the Seraph correct? Am I truly in your heart?"

The question froze Aziraphale. The demon had been in his heart for millenia, but years of denying that fact was hard to go against. The habitual refusal sat on the tip of his tongue. After all, how could an angel love a demon? He studied Crowley's eyes trying to find the catch. Crowley was a demon. There were always a catch with demons.

Aziraphale closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and straightened out his thinking. Crowley was his friend. He had been for many many years. He may be a demon, but they had an understanding that Crowley would never lie to or try to hurt him. It went well beyond professional courtesy now. The only thing that had kept them both in their roles was the threats from their opposing sides. That went right out the window with the Apocalypse-that-wasn't. He just needed to get over the self-made barrier that held him in place.

Opening his eyes, he held out his hands, palms up, and faced his most hidden desire and fear. "Yes." The word was barely a whisper. "I do."

"And I love you," Crowley responded, placing his hands in Aziraphale. "With all my heart."

There was warmth and comfort in those words, but they were also heavy and scary. The need to lighten things bubbled up in Aziraphale. He cocked an eyebrow. "With all your heart?" he teased.

Crowley caught on. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Well, maybe not all of it," he teased back. "I do still have my house plants and the Bentley to think about."

That was enough to ease the tension in Aziraphale's heart. He curled his fingers into Crowley's in silent gratitude. "What is this about?"

"It's something I need to do," Crowley explained. "Do you trust me?"

Aziraphale narrowed an eye at Crowley. He was being cryptic. Cryptic Crowley was never a good thing. "Yes," he said cautiously.

Crowley nodded. He released one of Aziraphale's hands and reached for a glass of water. He set it down in the space between their legs. "I need you to bless this."

Aziraphale stared down at the glass in horror. "No!" he refused and attempted to pull away from Crowley. "It would kill you."

Crowley clenched the angel's hand in his. "I don't think so," he said, trying to stop the angel from getting up. He pulled Aziraphale's hand closer.

The angel placed his free hand on the floor so he didn't topple over onto the glass. "It would kill you," he gasped again. How could Crowley ask this of him? The demon's request for Holy Water had lead up to one of the worst centuries ever. He had been so scared that his only friend may use the water to do something very stupid. It had taken everything he had to give the demon a sealed thermos of the stuff so he wouldn't risk his life to steal the stuff. There was no way he was going to bless an entire open glass of water.

"Lisssten to me," Crowley hissed.

The slip in Crowley's speech drew Aziraphale out of his fear. He looked up to meet the demon's snake-like eyes.

"I don't believe it will," Crowley explained. "The Seraph did something to us and I need to know what it is."

Aziraphale scrunched his fingers up in the rug. "But Holy Water?" he whined. That was much too risky.

"Fine," Crowley relenterd. "Let's start with something less dangerous." He rubbed the tips of his fingers together until sparks of Hell Fire crackled to life.

"_Crowley_," Aziraphale gasped and pulled as far away from the demon as he could get. "What on Earth has gotten into you?" He struggled to get free, but Crowley held him fast.

"I need to know what's changed," Crowley said through clenched teeth. "Forgive me." Before Aziraphale could pull free, Crowley brought the fire up and touched it to the angel's hand.

Aziraphale cried out in fear, expecting the Hell Fire to catch on his essence. He yanked hard against the demon's grip, slipping free as Crowley released him. Aziraphale fell backwards to the floor. He brought his hand up to cradle against his chest. He looked down, expecting to see the charred, black ruin Hell Fire would have left him, but something was wrong. Or right, depending on how you looked at it.

His hand wasn't twisted and mangled. In fact, the skin wasn't burnt at all. There was a light pink mark where the fire had touch, but that didn't even hurt. Laying on the floor, Aziraphale raised his hand and stared at the unblemished flesh. Even as he watched the pink haze disappeared from his skin, leaving behind a healthy glow. He turned his attention back to the demon.

Hell Fire danced on the tips of Crowley's fingers as a smile played on his lips.

"Did you know that would happen?" Aziraphale asked, sitting back up.

"I had my suspicions," Crowley explained as he held the fire out towards Aziraphale.

Aziraphale looked into the demon's eyes before turning his attention to the flames. They burned in a ball, just off the demon's hand. He reached out and let the flames lick at his finger. "It's warm," he said touching it more. "And it tingles."

"It does that," Crowley said, amusement thick in his voice. "Use a bit of power to buffer the flames away from your skin. I've kept this ball small, but Hell Fire will flare out of control if you let it."

Coating his skin in a thin protective layer of power, he touched the flames again. "It's not so hot now," he marveled.

Crowley smiled and transferred the ball to Aziraphale's hand. The flame immediately rage larger.

Aziraphale held the flame further away from his face and stared at it with wide eyes. He looked up at Crowley. A proud look sat on the demon's face. He stretched his hand out for the demon to take the flames back.

Crowley dropped his hand down into the flame, quenching it.

"How did you know?" Aziraphale asked as he looked at his now empty hand. The skin was slightly pink, but not burned.

"I didn't," Crowley shrugged. "Not really."

"_Crowley_," Aziraphale said crossly. "You could have killed me."

Crowley shook his head. "That's why I wanted to start with the Holy Water. But you wouldn't let me." He gave the angel a look that made his heart flutter. "Besides, I would never have let the flames consume you." He reached out and took the angel's hand. "I thought I lost you once by fire. I don't ever want to face that again."

Warmth filled Aziraphale's heart. He held Crowley's hand tighter. "I'm not going anywhere, my dear." The emotion filled silence stood for a few moments before Crowley cleared his throat.

"All right, Angel," he said, breaking into the mood. "My turn." He pushed the glass towards the angel, bringing Aziraphale's attention back to it. Somehow they had not managed to knock it over during their earlier tussle with the Hell Fire.

"Really?" Aziraphale said, staring at the glass with trepidation. "Can't we just assume from our earlier test that you've developed some resistance without having to test it?" He looked up hoping Crowley would cave as he usually did when asked for something.

"No," Crowley said with a shake of the head. "Both sides still want us dead," he explained. "If I'm caught out alone, this is one of the first things they will try."

"They already think we're immune to Hell Fire and Holy Water," Aziraphale reasoned. "They wouldn't try that again."

"May be," Crowley reasoned back. "Maybe not. I would rather know without assuming." He turned imploring eyes to his angel. "Please, Angel. I need this."

Aziraphale let out an anguished breath. He didn't want to bless the cup and risk his friend, but he could see no other way around it. He gave Crowley one more considering glance before turning his attention to the glass. He placed his hand over the water and spoke the Holy words. The water in the glass shimmered before going back to looking like normal water. He dipped his finger in the water, feeling the power in it. It was much stronger than he liked, but it would work for this test.

"Do it again," Crowley insisted.

"What?" Aziraphale gasped, looking up to meet Crowley's eyes. There was a hint of displeasure around the edges of his eyes.

"Do it proper this time," Crowley insisted.

"But it could kill you," Aziraphale whined.

Crowley's hand tightened around Aziraphale's. "I need to know, Angel. And it won't work with a half hearted blessing."

Aziraphale could see the determination in Crowley's face. "All right," he said caving to the demon's will. "But I get to put it on you, and only one drop."

Crowley nodded.

Releasing the demon's hand, Aziraphale sat taller. Closing his eyes, he unfurled his wings and opened himself to Heaven's Glory. Placing both hands over the glass, he pulled down power and did a proper Blessing. Opening his eyes, he looked at Crowley. The demon had shielded his eyes against the light still radiating from the cup between them.

Aziraphale waited for a moment as the glow dissipated. Reaching down, he touched the surface of the water. Shivers ran up his spine at the power in the water. He looked back to his demon. Grim determinations shown on Crowley's face as he stared down at the cup. "Give me your hand," Aziraphale said, reaching for Crowley.

Crowley placed his hand in Aziraphale's.

Dipping his finger into the water, Aziraphale gave Crowley one last chance to back out. "Are you sure?"

The tension in Crowley's jaw was visible, but the demon nodded his determination.

Lifting his wet finger out of the water, Aziraphale let a single drop fall to the back of Crowley's hand. It hit with an audible plop.

Nothing happened.

Relief drove a nervous giggle out of Aziraphale as he stroked the water off Crowley's hand. "That wasn't so bad." he said as he examined the demon's skin. "There's not even a red mark."

"One drop isn't enough."

The tension and determination in Crowley's voice sent a jolt of fear up Aziraphale's spine. He looked up just in time to see Crowley press the glass to his lips and take a drink.

* * *

A/N: This one is taking much longer than I had planned. Again, do I apologize for dragging this out, or be content that all the ends will be tied up?


	14. Chapter 14

The Holy Water burned as it went down. Crowley coughed and sputtered trying to get it back up, but it wasn't the Divinity in the water that hurt. It was the shriek from his puffy little angel and the fact said angel launched himself at Crowley that made the demon gasp and inhale the blessed stuff.

Aziraphale had managed to knock the cup out of his hand and was currently laying on top of Crowley with his wings flared out behind him in distress. His hand gripped the sides of Crowley's face as the angel tried to tip his head back to see if the water was melting him. Barbs of the angle's essence were jammed into Crowley in an attempt to save the demon from discorporating or melting into nonexistence.

It was the most exquisite and excruciating feeling ever.

Back in the early days of Heaven, angels would often touch souls. It was a deeply personal thing that gave the angels a stronger connection with those around them. Demons never shared their soul with anyone.

There had been many times Crowley had thought about touching his angel, but he had not, too afraid that his darkness would dull the angel. Or they both would explode. Crowley was surprised to discover this was not the case, or it wasn't anymore. Aziraphale's light shone into his darkness illuminating it. Filling the demon with all of Aziraphale feelings. His fear of losing his demon and the love that had grown in his heart. There were other thoughts and feelings rolling through the angel, but those were the only two that mattered to Crowley.

Lifting his hands, he caught the angel by his sides and held him as the coughing fit subsided. He ignored Aziraphale's frantic demand to know if he was okay. The angel's hands fluttered over his face and neck, poking at him with power, trying to heal damage that wasn't there. It brought a contentment to Crowley's soul. Something he hadn't known in quite some time. After a moment he spoke. "Books." The single word came out in a rasp.

Aziraphale stopped his frantic search and stared down at Crowley, questions flashed in his eyes. "Books?" he asked.

Amusement turned the corner of Crowley's mouth. "Holy Water," he croaked, voice and throat still too sore to speak properly. "Books."

"_Damn_ the books," Aziraphale said, not turning his attention away from Crowley.

Shock rushed through Crowley. His fingers curled into Aziraphale's sides and he held the angel as delight bubbled up inside him. It was extremely rare for the angel to damn anything, let alone his precious books. That one act spoke more to Crowley than any love confession could ever do. Releasing one fist full of coat, Crowley wrapped his arm up over the angel and forced his head down so he could reach his lips for a solid kiss. There was a desperation in the angel's returned kiss that made Crowley squeeze him tighter. Something warm and wet dripped in to Crowley's face. He pulled back to find tears running down Aziraphale's face. "Shh," he soothed, drawing his angel down deeper into his arms.

Aziraphale sobbed on to his shoulder. "I thought I'd lost you," he said weakly.

Crowley rubbed his angle's shoulders in a calming motion as he hushed him again. His finger trailed up into the soft coverts on the top edge of Aziraphale's wing. His angel relaxed under the touch.

"I was so scared," Aziraphale admitted.

"I know." Crowley said, carding his fingers through the feathers. He held his angel, preening through the feathers he could reach.

After a while, Aziraphale pushed up and glared down at Crowley. "Don't you ever do anything like that again," he scolded. "You could have died!"

Crowley grinned. "But I didn't,"

Aziraphale growled as he worked his way back to the sitting position he had started in. "You nearly discorporated me."

As the space between them grew, he felt the angel's essence withdraw. He held onto it, unwilling to let it go completely. His angel's warmth and love had filled him and he wasn't ready to go back to being a lonely demon again. Not yet.

Surprise flashed across Aziraphale's face and he stopped trying to pull himself back. He stared at Crowley and the demon regained his sitting position. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Crowley nodded. "I'm fine, Angel." He looked over to where Aziraphale had hurled the glass. It had shattered on the floor, leaving the water to spill out over several books. He waved his hand, vanishing the broken glass. He felt the water resist his miracle. He pulled on the angel's essence and waved again. The water gave up and vanished, leaving the books dry and undamaged.

Surprise shown on Aziraphale's face when Crowley turned back. It quickly turned into that look the angel got when things weren't going quite right. "Do you want to tell me what in Heaven is going on?"

Crowley smiled at his irritated angel. For a moment, he considered seeing how far he could push his angel, but decided things would go a lot better if his angel wasn't grumpy. "I needed to know how much the Seraph changed us," Crowley explained.

"You've already said that," Aziraphale growled. "That doesn't explain what that is." He waved at the tray next to Crowley. The contents had been jostled around.

Crowley reached down and straightened them as he spoke. "I needed to know how Hell Fire and Holy Water would affect us before I used the Her last gift."

Aziraphale sat taller. "Her last gift?"

Crowley nodded.

"What is it?"

A mischievous grin slid across Crowley's face. Placing his hand on the floor behind him, he leaned over at a jaunty angle. "Ahh," he said sarcastically. "Nothing an _angel_ would be interested in." He waved the angel's question away as if it didn't matter.

"_Crowley_," Aziraphale snapped.

The demon snickered. Things had been too serious and teasing his angel was too much fun. He loved the little sparks of irritation in his angel's eyes. He could feel the frustration through the places where their essence touched, but it didn't seem as if Aziraphale could sense him. Curiosity raced through him and pulled the amusement from his face. "Have you ever shared essence with someone before?"

The angel's wings fluttered in something close to distress. "Well, I…" he stammered.

The answer Crowley felt in Aziraphale angered him. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he gave his angel an expecting look.

Aziraphale rubbed his hands together as if he was washing them. "I never got the chance," he finally blurted out. "I know it was part of our training as angels but I never found… Ah… the opportunity to try."

Crowley felt the angel tug on his essence, trying to get it back. Crowley held on to the link as tightly as he could. "Why not?"

"There was never anyone I wanted to try it with," Aziraphale admitted sheepishly. "Much too personal." He tugged on his essence again.

The demon held tight. "But you shared it with me." He let a little of his love and appreciation for the act roll over the connection.

"I thought you were _dying_," Aziraphale huffed, flapping his hands in front of him.

Reaching out, Crowley caught one of Aziraphale's hands. "But I'm not." He squeezed his friend's hand and sent a wave of reassurance over the angel. It seemed to calm him a little, but there was still a ton of frustration welling in him. "Would you like to know what the gift was?" he asked as way of distraction. It worked.

Aziraphale's eyes widened. "Please."

That one word drew a new smile from Crowley. He sat up properly and took his angel's other hand. "It's probably best if I show."

* * *

A/N: This story has taken on a life of it's own. But I guess that is a good thing. To be honest, this is therapy for me. It's helped me get back into the joy of living in a story and seeing where the characters will go. I had none of this planned out when I started this little fluff piece.


	15. Chapter 15

Aziraphale drew in an apprehensive breathe before letting it slip from his lungs. _What was Crowley playing at?_ He knew his demon could be reckless at times, but he was never needlessly so especially when his own safety was concerned. That bit with both the Hell Fire and Holy Water had been down right foolish. In fact, Crowley's whole demeanor was off.

Something weird was going on.

Over the years, Aziraphale had become intimately aware of the demon's many sides. Most of the time, Crowley tended to be laid back and loose to the point of flippant. Aziraphale knew he was kind and indulgent, even if the demon refused to admit it. On occasion, he was serious, but there was always a vein of tease that Aziraphale had come to expect. Even rarer than that were the moment of pure panic that led him to rash decisions. Those had happened more within the last year, but that was to be expected with losing the Anti-Christ and the Apocalypse bearing down on them. But this Crowley wasn't any of those. This was a new Crowley. A thoughtful Crowley. A serious one without the flippant core. It scared Aziraphale.

Crowley sat patiently and waited for an answer.

Closing his eyes, Aziraphale felt his way to where their essences still mingled. He hadn't meant to jab himself into Crowley like that. He had done it without thinking how the demon would feel about it. The thought of losing Crowley to Holy Water had terrified him and he just reacted. He didn't even realize he could do that.

Feelings of love radiated for the connection. There was a comforting coolness to Crowley's touch. Like dipping your feet in a cool pond after a long hot day. It soothed some of the worry and fear from Aziraphale.

Opening his eyes, he met the demon's gaze. "Show me."

Crowley nodded and scooted closer to Aziraphale. He stopped when their knees were touching. "The Seraph gave me something special," he explained, letting his dark wings manifest behind him. "It's dangerous, but if you give me complete control, I can show you what it is."

Aziraphale tensed for a moment, before relaxing. He didn't know this side of Crowely, but he knew the rest of the demon. He would not let anything happen to them. Aziraphale nodded his agreement.

"I need you to say the words," Crowley said softly.

Another nod shook the angel's head as he spoke. "I trust you, Crowley, and I give myself over to you completely."

A poignant smile crossed the demon's face. His eyes shimmered with unreleased tears as he closed them. "Thank you," Crowley said. He cradled the angel's hands in his and let the tension ease out of his muscles.

Aziraphale followed suit as soon as he felt Crowley pulling on his essence. He let the demon draw him out of his corporation and deep into his own soul. So many things swirled around him. Bit of Crowley Aziraphale never knew. Flashes of feelings and memories. Pains, both old and new. Hurt, devotion, devastation, and love. It was so overwhelming. It was also very familiar, like being brought home.

A point of light radiated through the darkness of the demon's soul. It expanded as Crowley drew them closer. Soon Aziraphale found himself standing on the edge of a pool of light holding Crowley's hand.

"This is it," Crowley said, looking at the rippling surface that looked like quicksilver.

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley before crouching down to look at what was in the pool.

"Don't touch it," Crowley warned, squeezing Aziraphale's hand.

The angel nodded and bent closer without touching it. Things moved under the surface, but nothing Aziraphale had ever seen. Something glowing rose up. Gasping, Aziraphale drew back. There was an angel in there, but it had Crowley's face. He looked up the demon. "Is that you?" he asked, not quite grasping what he was seeing.

"That's one possibility," Crowley answered. "But there are more." He nodded his head towards the pool once more.

Aziraphale turned his attention back. He watched as the angel drifted back into the pool and other things floated up. Unsure what to make of it, he stood up, ready for Crowley to explain. "What is this?"

"It's a pool of creation," Crowley explained.

Aziraphale's mouth dropped open and he looked back at the silvery water. "But that's…"

"A pocket of _Her_ power," Crowley said, releasing Aziraphale's hand and crouching down next to the pool. "It's why I wanted to see how Holy Water affected me." He reached for the fluid and hesitated before touching the top of the silvery liquid. Colors rippled out across the surface.

Shock made Aziraphale's wing flutter. "What are you going to do with it?"

"I don't know," Crowley admitted. He dipped his fingers in and flicked up a pillar of the stuff, it formed into the angel that Aziraphale had seen under the surface. It looked like Crowley when they first met, only the wings were much larger. There was something ethereal about this image that made Aziraphale shudder.

Realization washed through he. He was looking at Crowley before his Fall. "You could regain your Grace," he whispered.

"I could," Crowley said, looking at his potential self. "But I don't really want to," he added. He waved his hand and the apparition dropped back into the pool.

"_Why not,_" Aziraphale asked, flabbergasted. _Wouldn't it be best if Crowley regained his Grace and was an angel again?_

Crowley turned his head and looked over his shoulder at Aziraphale. "Because it would change who I am," he explained. "And, despite the inconveniences of being a demon, I like who I am. Or at least, what I've become. Besides, it would complicate things."

"How so?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley snorted and looked down into the pool. "If I regained my Grace, the Archangels would come looking for me," he explained. "They would want me to come back to Heaven." He turned his head and looked up at Aziraphale again. "Can you see me surviving in Heaven for long?"

Aziraphale turned this idea over in his head. "No," he said bluntly. Crowley would take one look at the solid white of Heaven with all it's serine perfection and start hunting for the neared escape route.

Another amused snort came out of the demon. "Besides," he said, turning back to the liquid. "Gabriel won't let you come back, and I'm not enduring eternity without you."

A mix of pain and joy raced through Aziraphale's heart. Crowley was giving up redemption for him. Tears shimmered in his eyes, but he didn't let them fall. He also didn't say anything. He didn't know how to put his thoughts or feelings into words. He looked over the silvery pool and choose something else to say. "Are you just going to leave it here?"

Crowley shook his head as he stirred the pool. "No," he said. "It's not hurting me right now, but this much raw creation can't be left unattended. Besides, I'd rather have us make a conscious decision about how to use it, instead of a heat-of-the-moment one." He shot Aziraphale a mischievous look and flipped up his fingers again. The surface of the liquid rose up in a plethora of strange objects.

Aziraphale looked at the many options and blushed. More than half were designed for pleasure in ways he had only read about. "_Crowley_," he gasped. He crossed his arms and stood primly, incensed at the demon's suggestion. "I'd never."

Crowley grinned and waved his hand, dismissing the array of possibilities. He stood up and faced Aziraphale. "Don't say never," he cooed, closing the distance between them. "Never is a long time." Reaching out he touched Aziraphale's cheek. A trace of creation that still clung to Crowley's fingers touched the angel's skin.

A shiver raced up Aziraphale's spine as the power placed ideas in his head. The seeds of things that could be. Their potential paths flashed in front of his eyes. Everything from true enemies to hot and heavy lovers. He instantly knew what he needed to do to make any one of those paths come true. The knowledge forced a gasp from him and his knees weakened.

"_Angel_," Crowley cried, his arms were around Aziraphale, holding him up before he could fall. "I didn't… I wouldn't…" he stammered as he pulled the angel closer. "I'm sorry."

Aziraphale leaned into his demon, wrapping his arms up the demon's back. There was true worry in the way Crowley held him. He laid his head on the demon's shoulder and drew in a shaky breath. After a moment, he regained his composure and stood on his own again, but didn't move out of Crowley's arms. "I know," he said, reassuring the demon that everything was fine. He knew Crowley hadn't meant him any harm, but it put doubt in his mind. He looked over at the pool of potential. "Why would She give you something like this?" he pondered. "Do you even know how to use it?"

A grin split Crowley's face. "Of course I know how to use it." He waved one hand out towards the pool. The power in it sprang up and formed itself into a breathtaking array of colors and points of light. "I did once help hang the stars."

A gasp escaped Aziraphale. He knew this nebula. Shocked, he turned his attention back to Crowley. "You're…"

"Shh," Crowley said, cutting him off. "Don't say that name. Not even here." He released Aziraphale and turned back to the stars he had once made.

"But, you were important," Aziraphale stressed. "All of Heaven felt your loss. I felt your loss."

Crowley pursed his lips and shot Aziraphale a look that clearly said he didn't want to talk about it.

Aziraphale pushed on. "We thought you were killed in the war. You have to go back. So many would be happy to have you back."

Anger flashed in Crowley's eyes. "That would leave you alone on Earth to feel my loss again," he snapped. The stars behind him swirled in a violent manner.

Aziraphale's wings fluttered in distress and he withdrew from the sharp comment.

Clenching his jaw, Crowley forced himself to relax. He waved his hand at the twisted nebula and it dropped back into the pool. "I'm sorry, Angel," he said without looking at Aziraphale. "I can't go back." He turned his head and gave the angel a sharp look. "I won't go back." He relaxed and turned his focus back to the pool. "Besides," he said more gently. "I don't think Heaven would take me back even if I was restored."

The pain in the demon's voice tore at Aziraphale's heart. He moved forward and placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "Than don't," he said softly. The pain in his demon's voice hurt his heart. "It doesn't matter what Heaven thinks, you will always have a place in my home."

Crowley turned into Aziraphale's arms.

The angel stroked his back, both taking comfort as well as giving it. After a moment, Aziraphale spoke again. "If not your Grace and definitely not… _toys,_ what do you want to do with it?"

Letting out a sigh, Crowley stepped out of Aziraphale's embrace. He looked back to the pool. "I was thinking, maybe, something to help us in our fight against Heaven and Hell."

A furrow formed between Aziraphale's eyebrows. "We aren't in a fight with Heaven and Hell."

"Not yet," Crowley said, shooting Aziraphale a knowing look. "But it's coming and you gave away the only true weapon in your arsenal."

"It was cold," the angel started, trying to defend his decision.

"And I have never faulted you for that," Crowley added, cutting off the angel's protest. "But that leaves you somewhat lacking in your position as Guardian of Earth."

Aziraphale rubbed his hands together in a nervous fashion. "You would make me a new sword?" He did miss his old one.

"I can't think of anything better to use this for?"

Rubbing his hands together more, Aziraphale turned the idea over in his mind. Having a new sword would help them if the hosts of Heaven and Hell came after them, but he didn't know if Crowley could use a sword. His wings fluttered in indecision. He gave the demon a worried look. "But what about you? Shouldn't you get a sword too?"

"Nhg," Crowley drew the word out in dismissal. "I'm more of a lover than a fighter."

"Crowley," Aziraphale protested. He wanted the demon safe.

Crowley chuckled. "Don't worry," he cooed. "If anything should go down, I'll be hiding right behind you."

Aziraphale gave him a very stern look.

The demon grumbled. "Fine," he said, caving. "I'll make myself something too, but your sword comes first. This isn't a very big pool of creation and I don't want to skimp on our main source of protection."

A smile eased the stern lines on Aziraphale's face. That he could agree with.

* * *

A/N: Man these chapters keep getting longer. Sorry for the delay. I've spent four of the last few day dealing with BSA Winter Camp. I love the kids, but man oh man, what a bunch of hellions. They would make Crowley proud. And it doesn't help that tomorrow is Thanksgiving and I work in a Toy/Hobby shop. Pray for me. I'm going to need it.

Enjoy the chapter. I'm so close to the end of the story I can taste it, just a bit more to go. Thanks for sticking with me as long as you have.


	16. Chapter 16

Seeing the acceptance in Aziraphale's face, Crowley turned his attention to the pool of creations. "All right," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Let's get started." He waved his hand and the tray from the floor appeared next to him. He heard a chuckle from behind him.

"Was this your plan all along?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe," he lied. He liked the idea of letting his angel help pick what the gift should be, but he never had any doubts about the final outcome. He was not going to take his Grace back, they both needed protection, and he was rubbish with weapons. The angel, however, was good with a sword. The way he'd held it during the apocalypse and threatened Crowley had truly inspired fear in the demon. Crowley had no doubts his death would have been quick and clean if the angel had decided to use the sword instead of swearing to never speak to him again. The memory brought a smile to the demons face.

"So," he started, focusing on the task at hand. "What kind of sword do you want?"

"Oh," Aziraphale exclaimed. He paused as he thought. "A short sword would probably be best. Maybe a gladius."

Crowley nodded. Those were the most common Celestial swords, but he didn't want this to be your average Celestial swords. He turned to face his angel. "Can I have one of your feathers?" he asked. "A covert would do. It doesn't even have to be a nice one."

"Um," Aziraphale said. There was uncertainty in his voice.

"I want to use it to tie this sword to you," Crowley explained. "So no one can take it away from you unless you offer it."

Understanding dawned on the angel's face. "Of course." He spread his wings out.

Crowley stepped up and ran his fingers over the offered feathers. There were more than a few that were loose. "When was the last time you preened your wings?"

"I'm… Ah…" Aziraphale stammered.

"If you can't remember, it's been too long," Crowley scolded. He took one of the loose feathers and pulled it free. "When this is over, you're going to sit down and let me fix your wings." He turned back to the pool of creation. "They're too beautiful to leave in such ratty condition."

"Of course, my dear," Aziraphale said after a few seconds. Crowley could hear the smile in his voice. "But, you're going to have to let me do the same."

Crowley closed his eyes and swallowed down his emotions. He kept his wings in great condition, but there was nothing like letting someone else preen for you. The wings were highly sensitive. There was something deeply personal about giving someone your back and letting them clean your feathers. It was almost an intimate act. Something he didn't really like doing, even when he was still in Heaven. The thought of Aziraphale running his fingers through his feathers gave him chills in all the right ways. "All right," he agreed.

Putting those thoughts out of his mind, he stepped up to the edge of the pool and dropped Aziraphale's feather in. He paused for a moment before pulling one of his feathers out and dropping it in too. If he was going to forge a sword to protect Earth, he wasn't going to do it by halves. "So what do you want to do with your sword?" he asked. Crowley knew the answer, but he need Aziraphale to say it.

"Um," the angel started. "Protect Earth, I guess."

Crowley turned his head and looked at his angel out of the corner of his eye. "Only the Earth?" he prompted.

"Of course I want it to protect us as well," Aziraphale corrected.

"And that's what I needed to hear," Crowley said, turning his attention back to the pool of creation. The feathers had already been absorbed by the power. Streaks of red and blues swirled across the surface. He reached for the tray and picked up a small pile of dirt. "Protection for the Earth." He tossed the dirt into the pool. Brown streaks shot out across the surface. "Protection for what we love." He reached over and took a few sheets of old paper, a bottle of ink from Aziraphale's desk, an apple, some leaves from his plant, and a few slivers of leather he'd cut from the backside of the Bentley's seat. He tossed each one into the pool in turn. More colors raced over the surface with each addition.

His hand picked up the last item on the tray and he gripped it tight. "But not Celestial Fire." A Celestial Fire sword would have been wonderful, but it drew on Heaven's power. If Heaven ever found a way to truly cut Aziraphale off, the sword wouldn't be much more than blessed steel. Hell Fire would have worked too, but there was still the problem of Hell cutting Crowley off. But there was one thing that neither of them controlled. Something very Earthbound that would still work just as well. "St. Elmo's fire."He took the two batteries and chucked them into the mix. Electricity crackled over the pool as the fluid took on a violet glow.

Now that the power was ready, Crowley held his hand up for Aziraphale. "Help me, Angel."

Aziraphale took the offered hand and grasped it firmly between both of his.

Crowley took one last deep breath, cleared his mind of everything except the sword he wanted to create and plunged his hand into the pool.

The power grabbed Crowley's hand and tried to pull him in. He gripped on to Aziraphale.

The angel held him tighter, but the pull from creation was strong. He stumbled as he tried to hold Crowley back. Aziraphale flapped his wings several times, pulling against the power. Eventually the power settled down.

Crowley let out a sigh of relief as he gained control over the power. It had been too long since he'd made anything. He nearly forgot how strong the pull of pure chaos could be. Focusing his mind, he shaped the power into what he wanted and drew a sword out of the pool.

As the blade came free, the pool of creation shrank. By the time the tip of the blade came free, the pool was less than a third of what it had been.

Weary from his effort, Crowley sat heavily on the ground and clutched the new sword in his hand. He took a moment to admire his work. It was everything he had hoped for. The short blade glowed with a violet light. A feather ran down the center of the fuller. He flipped it over to find a darker feather etched on the other side. He inspected the handle. A twist of vines wrapped around the grip, holding red leather tightly in place. The pommel was white disk with writing set in black ink. The words were written in a language no human could read. He looked at them and snorted in amusement before lifting the sword up for Aziraphale to take. "Your sword, Angel."

Releasing Crowley's hand, Aziraphale took the sword.

Crowley closed his eyes and waited as the angel inspected the sword.

"_For God so loved the world_," Aziraphale read. "_She tasked an Angel and  
Demon to protect it._" He paused, reading it over again. "Really, Crowley?" he asked. "Don't you think that's a bit cheeky?"

Crowley chuckled. "I didn't put it there," he said, grinning up at his angel.

Aziraphale's eyes nearly bugged out as he stared back at the writing on the sword. "Do you think She knew we would make a sword with Her gift?"

"All part of Her _ineffable_ plan," he snarked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Aziraphale shot him a reproachful look. "Really, my dear?" He held his hand down to help Crowley up. "Do show some respect."

Crowley snorted in irritation, but took Aziraphale's hand and let the angel pull him to his feet. "Do you like it?" he asked.

Gripping the sword firmly, the angel waved it around. The blade crackled as it moved through the air. "Yes," Aziraphale admitted as he brought the sword down in a slashing motion. "It's very well balanced." He twirled it around, testing the heft. He turned his attention back to Crowley. "I think it will do very nicely." He licked his lower lip. "Um, did you happen to think about making a scabbard for it?"

Crowley looked down at the edge of the pool to find there was a scabbard waiting for him. He shook his head, leaned over, and picked up the missing piece. "Here," he said, handing the scabbard over.

Aziraphale took the covering and slid the sword home. He tied the loops firmly to his belt. He checked the draw before turning his attention back to Crowley. "Should we possibly think about your weapon now?"

"I don't need a weapon," Crowley grumbled. "I'm rubbish with a weapon."

Aziraphale tutted at him. "You promised," he reminded the demon.

Crowley rolled his eyes. It was more of a full body motion that anything. "Fine," he grumbled. "But I'm not carrying a sword." He knelt down next to the pool again. "Maybe something for defense." He offered his angel his hand.

The angel took and held on tight.

The pull from the power wasn't as hard this time. Crowley closed his eyes and let the chaos choose what shape was best for him. He felt the pool form up in his hand. Opening his eyes, he found he held a sleek staff. The dark wood was smooth, but twisted as if it was formed from a natural limb. It felt good in his hand. "There," he said standing up. "Does this suit you?" He held the staff out for Aziraphale.

The angel took the staff and rubbed his hands over it. "No," he admitted. "But it does suit you." He handed the staff back to Crowley. "Considering who you used to be."

Crowley snorted out his irritation. He took the staff and leaned on it. Honestly, it was a very good stick. He looked over the area where the pool of creation had stood. There was still a hint of residue, something he might be able to use later, but it was mostly gone. Something shiny caught his eyes. A laugh slipped out and he bent over to scoop it up.

"What's that?" Aziraphale asked.

"Nothing important," Crowley said, slipping the object into his pocket. "Everything's tickety-boo."

"Tickety-boo?" Aziraphale said in disbelief.

"Hey," Crowley said. "It's your word, not mine."

Irritation covered Aziraphale's face.

Crowley ignored it and held his hand out. "Are you ready to get out of here, Angel?"

Aziraphale huffed, but took Crowley's hand. "I guess so."

Ignoring his angel's disappointment, he stepped closer to the angel and wrapped his arms around him. "Hold on tight."

Aziraphale's arms came up around him.

Crowley smiled. A simple touch would be enough to bring them back, but he liked the idea of being in his angel's arms. He drew Aziraphale into the line of his body and laid his head on the angel's shoulder. He felt Aziraphale return the embrace as darkness drew them in and took them back to reality.

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A/N: I loved this chapter so much, It was fun! Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends! Enjoy.


	17. Chapter 17

Consciousness took its sweet time in return. Aziraphale drew in a deep breath and let the world slowly come back. The surface under him was hard, but there was something comforting about it that made him want to stay there. The smell of old books filled the air. It smelt like home. A hint of Crowley's cologne and the scent of the Serpent himself gave Aziraphale something more to focus on. He cracked his eyes to find the demon filling his field of vision. Aziraphale's head rested on Crowley's upper arm. The rest of the demon wrapped around him in a protective embrace. A single dark wing stretched over them, keeping the rest of the world at bay.

There was no tension in the demon's touch, so Aziraphale assumed he was still asleep. Shifting his head back, he looked up hoping to take in the demon's unguarded visiage. What he found drove a gasp from him.

The demon was watching him, unadulterated love shimmered in his yellow eyes. Aziraphale had never seen anything so intensity in the demon's gaze before. It was more that he could bare. He squirmed uncomfortably.

"Shh," Crowley hushed. "I've got you." His hand ran down Aziraphale's back in a soothing motion, pulled him closer.

The angel took the opportunity to bury his blushing face into Crowley's chest. He curled his fingers in the soft fabric and whimpered his distress. As a being of love, he was used to the feeling of love, but having those feelings turned on him was something new. It was so overwhelming, he didn't know how to deal with them.

"Shh," the demon said again. His hand stroked Aziraphale again. "It's all right. You're all right."

The pair laid on the floor for a long time as Aziraphale quivered and Crowley muttered soothing things while petting him. The feelings of love rolled through their connected souls. There were other emotions, but that one muted the rest. Eventually, the angel calmed down as he grew accustomed to the feelings. Unballing his hands from Crowley's shirt, Aziraphale ran his fingers over the hard planes of Crowley's chest, smoothing out the wrinkles. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Shut it," Crowley reprimanded gently. He slid his hand from Aziraphale's back and caught him under the chin. A soft pressure lifted his face away from the demon's chest.

Aziraphale met the demon's gaze.

"Don't ever be sorry for this," Crowley said. "If you want to be a nervous wreck, I'd prefer that you do it in my arms. I quite like the way you shiver." Amusement twinkled in the demon's eyes.

A hint of irritation cut through Aziraphale. "You're going to tease me now?"

"Course I'm going to tease you," Crowley declared with more of his usual flare. "I'm a demon. That's what I do. Doesn't mean I don't still love you"

And suddenly, Aziraphale's world was right again. "I love you too." He smiled and rose to meet the demon's lips for a soft kiss. Before Crowley could deep the embrace, Aziraphale pulled away. He raised his hand and brushed the dark wing back so he could sit up.

Crowley reluctantly let him go.

Aziraphale sat cross legged on the floor with his wings reaching out behind him. He faced the demon stretched out next to him. Crowley had pushed himself up to rest on his elbow, but hasn't moved much. An uncomfortable tension stretched between the two. Aziraphale needed to say something, but he wasn't sure how to address it. The events of the last few days had changed them both. Things were moving much faster than he was comfortable with, but he didn't want to push the demon away and risk going back to the unhappy state that had been in for the last six thousand years. His mind turned over the many possibilities that the pool of creation had shown him. "Crowley," he said apprehensively.

"Angel," the demon said, cutting him off. He stretched his hand out and took a hold of Aziraphale's. "Whatever you're going to say. Don't." He gave the angel's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I have waited six thousand years for this opportunity and I'm not going to let you waste it by overthinking. Whatever thoughts are racing through that feather-filled brain of yours. Stop. Just relax and let this process. We'll take this at whatever speed you need and I promise I won't go too fast."

A smile eased its way across Aziraphale's face. "Patience is a virtue, my dear," he pointed out, teasing the demon.

Crowley returned the smile. "One I've been working very hard on."

Aziraphale chuckled. "All right. No words now, but I promise there will be words later." He raised their joined hands up and kissed Crowley's knuckles. "Thank you."

"Ngh," Crowley grunted in dismissal. He carefully drew his hand back from the angel so he could push his way up from the floor.

Aziraphale looked around. "Where's my sword?" The large blade was noticeably missing.

"Check your pocket," Crowley said as he got his feet under him and stood.

Aziraphale's hands patted down his pockets. He found a hard object in one and fished it out. "A pen?" he asked, staring at the object. It was an old fashioned fountain pen. The enameled barrel and cap were apple red with gold vines wrapped around it. There was a black leather grip at just the right place. Carefully, Aziraphale unscrewed the cap. Electricity crackled as he pulled the top free. The beautiful silver nub was engraved with a pair of feathers. He looked up, giving the demon a questioning look.

Crowley shrugged. "Form follows function," he said, holding his hand down to help Aziraphale up. "It will be what you need it to be when you need it."

The angel took the offered hand and let the demon lift him to his feet.

"Besides," the demon said, turning to head to the kitchenette. "Can't have you running around London with a magical sword on your hip."

Aziraphale had to admit, carrying an actual sword would be hard in this day and age. Turning his attention back to the pen, he gripped it tightly and brought it down is a swinging motion. The blade of the weapon slipped into reality leaving the angel with the same glowing sword he'd held before. The top in his other hand had also expanded into the matching scabbard. "Interesting."

"I could have made it into a light-saber for you," Crowley held his hands down as if he was holding an imaginary swords. He made some weird noises and he swung his hands around. "Only, I didn't think you would appreciate that as much as a pen." He released his stance and continued on towards the kitchen.

A snicker rolled out of the angel. Crowley hadn't forced the angel into going to the theater to see the well loved movies, but it had been one of the demon's favorites. So much so he had bought the entire book series and insisted the angel read them. Aziraphale had protested their addition to his collection, but had eventually given in. They weren't nearly as horrible as he had expected.

Aziraphale wasn't surprised when he slipped the sword back into its sheath and it shrunk down into the pen. He twisted the top closed and slipped it into his breast pocket. "How do you feel about a spot of lunch?" Aziraphale called to where he could hear Crowley rattling things around in the kitchen.

"You couldn't have asked before I got out the tea?" Crowley yelled back. There was a hint of exasperation in his voice, but it was clear to Aziraphale that the demon's answer would be yes.

Aziraphale shook himself, pulling his wings back into hiding. He glanced over the mess their excursion had made of the room. It wouldn't take but a moment to miracle things back into place. He lifted his hand to do so, but stopped when something caught his eye. A glint of gold laid on the floor near his feet. Bending over, he picked up the ring and looked at it. A pair of wings were etched on what looked like a golden wedding band. A single word in Enochian was engraved on the inside: Angel. Aziraphale's heart jumped. This had to have been the object Crowley picked up but wouldn't show him. It pulsed with a divinity that clearly shown it wasn't made by man. And with the way Crowley had reacted, Aziraphale was pretty sure the demon hadn't created it himself. That left one being in all of creation that could have left them wedding bands. A smile turned Aziraphale's lips. If God approved of their union, who was he to protest. Maybe it was time he picked up the pace a little. "Crowley?" he called as he headed towards the kitchen and his future. He just hoped that there was a second matching band hidden in one of the demon's pockets.

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A/N: Thank you all for joining me. I had so much fun writing this. I thought about continuing on to see what kind of trouble these two could get into, but decided this would be a great place to end it. I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Please lease me a comment to let me know your thoughts and opinions Thanks.


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